Skepsis
by Incondite Assembly
Summary: AU.  Kiba meets an unexpected person - a trainee from the inner sanctums of the city - who changes his very perception of the world.  What will he do when the basic truths he has learned to accept are all lies?


**A/N: Hey everyone. This is my first fic, though don't feel that it is necessary to "go easy on me" because of that. I appreciate constructive criticism or anything else that will make me a better writer. Random reviews would also be greatly appreciated, as I don't think I would be able to write a fic in its entirety without knowing that someone was reading it =). **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to these characters nor the world in which they live.**

**Chapter 1: Wandering Mind**

The weather in the city of Ame was generally inclined to rain more often than not, hence its' name. Regardless of it being expected, Kiba wished that the sun would show itself every so often. It wasn't that he disliked rain in general (he wasn't sure how anyone could live in Ame while harboring a hatred towards the climate), but it made his living conditions all the more arduous. Kiba, like many other people in the city, was homeless, taking shelter in the alleyways created by the large buildings and skyscrapers in the area. Occasional rain would make living outdoors irritating, but the constant downpour of icy rain that buffeted the inhabitants of the streets was enough to drive someone insane. The streets were hardly a safe place, especially when a warm place to stay was being contested.

Kiba had created a shelter hidden amidst some of the older buildings: the ones that people hardly used. Going inside the buildings for shelter was a rookies' mistake, and a good way to get on the bad end of a gang. Abandoned buildings got picked up by the various gangs of the city, and people would kill for that kind of shelter. That was why Kiba made his own shelter, using the gaps between several of the buildings just between the rundown and more metropolitan areas of the city. The spacing prevented the area from being scouted often, and the location was perfect. From any angle, the gap did not appear as if it were there, but instead had to be entered via the windows of one of the surrounding buildings. To prevent others from seeing it, he boarded the window (not an uncommon occurrence in the area) and made it able to be opened using a lock and key he had salvaged from an old warehouse.

His "house" did not originally have a roof, so he had to create a makeshift ceiling using the lids of dumpsters, hooking two of them together and sealing the center so that the rain would fall to the side. The area was even convenient enough to already have two small drains in the sides so that it wouldn't flood. All in all, he would consider himself very lucky for finding the place… or at least as lucky as a homeless guy in a rainy city _could _be.

Because his home was relatively safe, he could keep his belongings there. That wasn't to say that he owned much worth keeping, but he did have a sort of storage area to save some extra food, as well as a few changes of clothes and, of course, his dog. Kiba had found Akamaru when he was a puppy, although it may have been more accurate to say that Akamaru had found Kiba. It had been about two years that Akamaru had been around, ever since Kiba had gotten into a scuffle with some "tax collectors."

In Ame, the gangs did not just fight amongst themselves, or with the government, but also with the other homeless. It wasn't exactly fighting if they got what they wanted, though. Generally, a few people would come through the alleyways, demanding compensation they did not deserve for a service they did not do. In simpler terms, they would be considered bullies. Instead of peddling or begging on the streets like the general homeless did, the gang members would visit the people in each alleyway, asking for a percentage of what each person had received. If the amount was insufficient or not given at all, the person would be punished – the screams were loud enough to hear from blocks away. Once they started, the so-called taxes were given without question from everyone within earshot.

On the week that Kiba had an unfortunate encounter with the aforementioned collectors, he had fallen incredibly ill, hardly able to stand, let alone rummage or find any source of food or money. When the group came around, he told them what had happened – to say that they were apathetic to his situation would have been an understatement. He had tried to bargain with them, asking if he could give double next week, but they simply responded by saying that "rules were rules". When it became apparent that the situation was not going to change, they took to violence.

Time passes strangely in painful situations. There were stories of people being tortured for weeks, but the pain made it seem like it was only hours. The reverse had been said as well – that a momentary pain seemed to last for an exaggerated amount of time. For Kiba, he was not sure if it was the first or the second that occurred, or maybe some combination of the two, but all he felt was pain. He saw his blood stain his clothes and felt his ribs crack – on top of his already sickly state nearly forcing him into comatose. When the pain suddenly stopped, he was only faintly aware of an approaching sound of barking.

To be more clear, dogs in Ame were generally untamed, and hearing a dog bark as angrily as the one that day had meant one of two things: a law enforcement agent was coming (they were really the only ones who took the time to tame the animals) or a group of strays were viciously on the chase. As a gang member, neither of those were appealing options, especially because the average dog had rabies and a rather dark and angry demeanor. No sooner had the barking started than the muggers had run, leaving Kiba and his broken body alone in the alley.

Kiba managed to keep his eyes open just long enough to see a small red dog appear over him, sniffing him before barking in a much more pleasant tone than before. His eyes furrowed in confusion as he saw the dog – much smaller than he had anticipated based on the bark, and also much more friendly. He opened his mouth to mutter thanks, but only managed to cough up blood before falling into a dreamless sleep.

When he woke, his entire body ached with pain, but it did not hurt as much as he had anticipated. He surveyed the area only to find the dog curled up against his body. Blinking the fuzziness from his eyes, he realized that the dog looked the same, but was pure white as opposed to the red dog from before. Maybe he was imagining things – he wouldn't be surprised if he had after the beating he sustained. On top of that, he was not sure if it was stranger that the dog appeared to have changed colors or that it had come to his aid. That seemed so… impossible.

He had named the dog Akamaru, based on the red appearance he had witnessed during his stupor. Ever since that day, the two had been together, although Kiba generally left Akamaru to stay at their home. As much as Kiba would prefer to have a friendly face near him when he was out on the streets, he couldn't risk anything. There was a fear of dogs in the city, and the patrollers would jump on an opportunity to take a dog from a homeless person, especially considering that it was "potentially dangerous."

While Kiba was away from home, he generally did one of a few mundane things: foraging, peddling, and begging. Some of the homeless were against begging when they first started, but most everyone eventually broke down. It was by far the easiest method and regardless of degradation, money was money, and it was required to survive. Although it was not Kiba's preferred source of income, he found himself sitting on a street corner more often than not, a tin cup in his hand and his mind wandering.

Just like any normal day, he was there, sitting near the intersection of two streets when he felt a coin drop into his cup. The action caught broke him out of his reverie, causing him to look up at the person who had given him the change. The mild thanks that he was about to utter was caught in his throat when he saw the person still standing there staring at him – that was new. "T-Thanks ma'am," he mumbled awkwardly.

The woman put her hand on her hip, an inquisitive look in her eyes. "What's your name?"

That was even stranger – what did she care? She was probably one of those people who looked down on the homeless, and was just asking his name to more formally tell him why he was the scourge of the city. It would be rude to not respond, although he did consider it, and so he figured she should at least be given the benefit of the doubt. "My name's Kiba," he said, flicking his eyes to meet her briefly. He considered stopping there but decided to tell her off before the reverse happened, "look, say what you want about me, but-"

"Kiba, huh?" she cut him off, tilting her head slightly to the side.

He stopped talking and instead opted to raise an eyebrow. Was there something wrong with her? Maybe she was born with some deficiency or something. There wasn't any other conceivable reason for her to just… talk to him. It had been a few seconds of her just staring at him before he grunted in confirmation, lifting his gaze to look at her. She looked different than he had expected, or noticed from his brief glances towards her. She was probably a few years older than him, in her early to mid-twenties, with brown hair that stopped above her shoulders. What was strange, though, was that she did not look like a resident of Ame, but instead held an air of something… different. She was dressed neither like a commoner nor one of the wealthy, but instead had a style of clothing unique to him.

He stopped his wonderings and cleared his throat, "is there something you want?"

The tone with which the words left his voice was much more considerate than he had meant for them to be. Although he was asking her that question, he had meant for it to be heard as, "leave me alone now," but for whatever reason, his voice betrayed him. It was probably because he was so used to people leaving him alone by his mere presence – curse his lack of practice.

"Not really," she responded, smiling lightly at him. There was a look on her face that looked to Kiba as if she were considering something. She turned to look down the street to find that no one was nearby before leaning a little closer to him, "tonight, will you help him?"

All of the rational thought and possibilities of who she was flew out the window when she said that, metaphorically of course. Kiba chuckled nervously before placing a hand against the ground and lifting himself up so that he was standing, his legs partially asleep from his previous position. "Sorry lady, but I have no idea what you're talking about. But I should really get going…"

Being a homeless guy in the city, he really didn't have anywhere to be. That was unless "not here" was an appropriate answer. Kiba was hoping that she didn't know that, but by the look in her eyes, it seemed she caught his bluff. She shook her head briefly, as if clearing the fog from her mind. "I'm sorry," she said, extending a hand towards him, "it was nice to meet you Kiba."

He furrowed his brow, but mirrored her action regardless and shook her hand. The moment their skin came in contact, he felt an unexplainable surge of energy. With shocked eyes, he looked at the woman to find that she was looking directly at him as well (though to say that she was looking _through_ him felt like a more accurate statement). Then a voice echoed within his mind, '_help him… please.'_

Kiba released his grip and staggered backwards, falling roughly to the ground. He winced when he came in contact with the cement, vaguely realizing that the bruises from the fall would probably hurt for a few days. The words were echoing through his mind as if they had been shouted in a cave. With a racing heart, Kiba looked back up to where the woman was, but found nothing there. Had he imagined her?

He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, giving himself time to figure out what had happened, but the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Was she real? He wasn't sure – Kiba had heard of people imagining things when starvation started to kick in (he didn't think he was _that_ hungry). If she was, though, how did she do that? Was she psychic? Kiba did not believe in the supernatural, though he figured it was possible. What concerned him more, though, was that if she was not real, why had he imagined her?

His mind reeled over the events that had just transpired, going over the details in reverse order. He reached the beginning when it hit him: she had dropped a coin in his cup. It took him all of ten seconds to realize that the tin cup was behind him, which he picked up with shaking hands. The sound of the coin clattering against the side of the cup signaled to him that it was truly in there even before he saw it, letting him breathe a sigh of relief – he wasn't crazy. At least he thought he wasn't… The fact remained, though, that if the coin was in the cup, it meant that she was real, that she had talked to him in his mind, and that she had disappeared without a sign that she left. Maybe he was crazy…

On second look, the coin itself was unique to him. It was not a common coin in the city of Ame, but looked as if it belonged to another country. That would explain why the woman had been dressed so differently than what he was accustomed to. He flipped the coin between his fingers a few times, lost in thought. It was extremely clean and reflected light neatly off of its' golden surface. Kiba idly wondered if he would be able to pawn it for any amount of money. Then again, if it truly was worth something, he would not gain anything from peddling it, as he would most definitely come out on the bad end of that deal. Not sure what to do with it, he decided to pocket it – a memento to his sanity.

Before he knew it, he was confronted by another woman, or should he say girl? She looked to be around twelve years old, and was dressed in what looked to have been a once nice dress, though it was dirtied and torn. The girl stood in front of him wringing her hands nervously, obviously wanting him to speak first.

Kiba sighed, rolling his eyes ever so slightly so that she would not see. If she wanted to talk to him, then she should talk. Standing there and forcing him to initiate a conversation was just irritating. "Is there something you want?"

The girl looked at him with a sad look in her eyes, though it looked to Kiba as though something was off. She nodded curtly and then mumbled, "I'm sorry. My parents died recently and I don't have anywhere to go. I was just… I was just wondering if I could stay with you? Just for the night. It's so cold…"

He hated when they did this, especially when they were so obvious. Kiba gazed down the street in either direction, not seeing anyone suspicious nearby, though that did not surprise him. It was a fairly common tactic used on the streets – get a defenseless looking girl to ask for something seemingly harmless. It couldn't be _that_ bad to let her stay there just one night, right? If that were truly the case, then no, there would not be much harm in it, however it usually was not. The girl either worked for one of the gangs or she was forced into doing it, although those were almost the same in Kiba's book (one harboring more sympathy than the other). They chose young girls for one of two reasons: the first being that they emanated a sense of security. They were the most defenseless, the least likely to backstab the person helping them. The second reason was that many homeless men had a lot of… sexual tension, and the prospect of having a girl stay the night with them did not sound so bad. It was disgusting – Kiba held no remorse for the people with those intentions. Once the girl was shown to her temporary abode, the gang would take it for their own, effectively forcing the person who "owned" the property to work for them, lest they lose their home. If Kiba told the girl where he lived, he would either have to leave it or work for one of the gangs. Neither of those seemed like positive choices to him, so he opted for a lie, "if I had a place to stay, yeah. I'm living here on the streets, just like the rest of these guys." He waved his arm to motion to the other homeless people scattered around the street at a distance.

She nodded with a disheartened sigh before making her way along the street to the next beggar. Kiba shook his head, feeling a tiny bit of sadness for having to reject her request. For all he knew, she _could_ have been telling the truth. That was the problem with the streets – trust was weakness. Kiba had learned long ago that no one could be trusted, and that it would be best if it was just him and Akamaru. Bringing other people into the equation just complicated things.

Even though the day was far from over, Kiba could not make himself stay on the street corner, especially because there had been a pause in the rain, making the return much easier. He stood himself up and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tattered pants while he walked back towards the alleyway that led to the entrance of his home. Home – he hated calling it that, regardless of how accurately the word fit. Whenever he heard the word home, he imagined a house, maybe where his mom and dad lived with a brother or sister. According to that definition, the shabby gap that he lived in was definitely not a home.

What would it be like to be a normal person? To live a normal life, go to school, have friends, have parents, and go about living life? He wondered if he would look down on homeless people like everyone else did – probably. If he hadn't gone through the misfortunes that he had, why would he be any different? People always looked at situations as if they would be unchanged by the conditions – call him pragmatic, but he believed it to be true. In nine out of ten situations, people would say that they would do things differently in someone else's shoes, but how would they know that without the foresight they gained from the event already having occurred? Having a lot of free time really got him to do some thinking.

After what felt like an hour, even though it had been only about five minutes, Kiba reached the alleyway he had come to recognize as home. He walked to the back end of the alley and jumped onto the dumpster in the area, using it to give him the extra height he needed to reach a higher window. Through there, he followed a rather simple pathway before coming to a boarded window to his left – easily overlooked by anyone passing, which was exactly how he wanted it to be.

Kiba rummaged through his pockets to find the key before inserting it into the small lock that bound the window shut. With minor effort, the lock opened, followed by the sound of muffled barking – at least Akamaru had the sense to not make too much noise. Kiba hopped through the window before closing it behind him, locking it from the inside using a different latch. He then turned around and greeted Akamaru with a scratch on the underside of his neck, causing the dog to fall over, exposing his stomach to Kiba.

He scratched the dogs' stomach briefly before prying his shoes off of his feet, freely moving his toes from the constraint that the shoes imposed. They were fairly old and definitely too small for him, but finding shoes that fit properly was difficult at best. He stripped himself of the rest of his clothes and walked to one of the corners of the area. The rain had picked up again, falling freely on the outskirts of the room-like area. Kiba took hold of a bar of soap that he had scavenged and used the city's climate to his advantage.

After his makeshift shower, he toweled off using the clothes he had worn earlier before hanging them on a bar in full contact with the rain. It was not the ideal way to clean clothes, but at least it was something. He rummaged around for something to change into, the small droplets of water hitting the nearby ground chilling his already cold body. After finding the cleanest clothes he could, he pulled them on quickly – the shirt still a little damp from its' last wash. He shivered, lying down on the bed he had fashioned out of old blankets, pulling the top, most waterproof one over himself entirely.

It only took a few minutes for his body heat to warm the blankets to a comfortable temperature. Akamaru did not take long to join him, maneuvering his way under the covers and using Kiba as a source of warmth. Kiba absent-mindedly pet the dog, still running his meeting with the woman from before through his mind. He checked for what felt like the hundredth time to make sure the coin was still in his pocket – that it was still real, and breathed a sigh of relief every time he found it was.

As strange as it had been, he kept thinking about what she said, '_tonight, will you help him?_'

He wondered if that was important or not. Had she approached him just to tell him that? She had not really said anything else, but it did not make it any clearer. Who was he supposed to help? Besides, he was just a homeless bum, it was not like there would be much he could do in a situation. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated with the situation and even _more_ frustrated with how frustrated it was making him, which he realized was only making it worse, which frustrated him even more. Attempting to think logically in a situation that held no logic was difficult.

There were still a few hours before dark, and Kiba did not think he would last out the day in its entirety – he was too tired. With the words the woman said still playing in his mind, Kiba fell into a troubled sleep.

**Chapter One complete! I hope everything was clear and not too boring. I'll try to bring in more action soon. It's pretty late right now, but I wanted to get this in before I went to bed, so I hope the ending was not too abrupt or anything. As always, reviews would be greatly appreciated!**


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